


Where Soul Meets Body

by JudusEye



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Gen, Graphic Description, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:46:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudusEye/pseuds/JudusEye
Summary: A collection of oneshots for my mythology AU which takes place in a world where mythological creatures are real but kept hidden from society but of course the White Masks want to come in a ruin the blissful ignorance by exposing the creatures to the world. This is where Rainbow Six steps in, a group of powerful and highly trained mythological creatures who keep the White Masks at bay.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Where Soul Meets Body

**Author's Note:**

> So yeeeeah, another one of my weird and wacky AUs! Come and HMU on tumblr @JudusEye if you have any questions or just want to chat! And HUGE thanks to my partner in crime Grain-crain-drain who helped put this AU onto paper! Look them up on tumblr @grain-crain-drain or on ao3 @Grain_Crain for absolutely stunning fanfics and fandom creations!

Rook winces as Doc lets all six rounds of his magnum off over his head, his brain already throbbing in his skull. There’s a following cry of pain behind them and Doc uses the distraction to drag Rook further back into the room and away from their enemies. He is pulled around a set of ribbed steel containers just as a string of rounds pepper the metal they were just in front of, sending sparks flying. Doc spits curses under his breath, reloading his magnum with well-practiced movements and returns fire with deadly precision if the thudding sounds of impact are anything to go by. The air stills with silence, broken by Doc’s heaving breaths and Rook’s whine as he slowly drags Doc down with his weight. Doc takes a moment to set his M4 up where he can quickly grab it if anyone decides to rush in before he is finished taking care of Rook. They were safe from gunfire for now, but it was only a matter of time until their blood thirst took over, and Rook was looking like an easy kill right now. 

Doc carefully sets him against the steel container and yanks on the emergency lines connected to Rook’s ballistic vest that disconnects the front and the back from each other. With brutal efficiency, Doc removes the top piece of the vest and jams combat gauze that Rook hadn’t seen him get out into the deep gorge along his side and stomach. For a moment, everything is white and he can’t breath. When he comes to, his face is wet with tears and Doc is looking at him with a deep frown. Rook sobs, his hands coming up to grab the other man’s hands which still press on the wound. Doc replaces his own hands with Rook’s, and runs his fingers across the strap that normally contains his specially made stim pistol syringes, now empty. Rook catches the movement and looks up with wide eyes. He doesn’t need to look down to know that he is still bleeding out, his fingers are slippery with the blood that immediately soaked through the bandage. 

He only brought three. One was used on Bandit after a shotgun blast ripped nearly all the skin off his chest, another on Pulse when his bullet wounds would not stop bleeding despite his accelerated healing, and, with dawning horror, Doc realizes the last one shattered against his chest from the same blast that forced shrapnel into Rook’s flesh. He curses wildly, the reality of how fucked they were hitting him all at once. This wasn’t how the mission was supposed to go, the intel said there were maybe four White Masks at most, equipped with small arms. The people in this building were armed to the teeth and were expecting them. Doc looks around wildly, peeking over their metal shield and spraying at someone who steps into the doorway. His shots don’t land and the man scrambles to cover outside the doorway. He should have brought more syringes, but they were so extremely valuable and if they stayed in the warm air for too long they would lose their magic and be no more than saline in a glass container.

Blood pushes past his pale fingers, “Doc,” he whimpers. The man looks back down at him and pushes Rook’s hands down harder over the wound. Rook squeezes his eyes shut and gasps. 

“Julien, listen to me closely.”

Rook squints up at the man who moved to crouch in front of him while his eyes were shut.

“I am going to shift and you are going to drink my blood.” 

He immediately feels sick and shakes his head no, “I can’t do that, Doc.”

“Julien, you have to or you are going to die!” 

Rook freezes at that; he knew he was losing blood quickly but he didn’t think it was so bad. But now that he thinks about it, he can feel his own mortality in the shivers that wrack his blood-drained body and the numbness in his fingers. Doc looks him in the eyes and must see the resolute answer he is looking for, perhaps Rook’s undeniable will to live, because he presses down on Rook’s hands once more before standing up and backing away, “Hold tight, I will be right back.”

Rook swallows painfully and nods his head slowly. 

Doc’s process of shifting is not like how Hollywood presents it, where the body is broken and stretched to create a monstrous form. Of course they didn’t know that, no one knew creatures like them truly existed. Instead, a pure white light erupts from his body, wispy tendrils thrash around the Doc’s diminishing silhouette and a sharp wind stirs up the dirt in the area. It’s over in an instant and in the place where Doc once occupied now stands a stark white unicorn much larger than any horse Rook has ever seen. The beast isn’t exactly Doc; it comes from an alternate plane, the flashing light was a mere glimpse into that plane, and by the means of a soul bond, it can merge with Doc to coalesce in the material world. 

The unicorn bends his massive head down to sniff at a pool of blood and Rook gets a good look at the meter long spiraling horn that protrudes from his forehead. It is one of the most prized possessions on earth, sought after in the medieval ages and capable of curing all illness known to man. Many unicorns perished in the hunt for its ivory, even those captured alive, because once you cut the horn away, the magic is leached from the beast and it perishes soon after. The beast breathes in and his nostrils flare before jerking his head up, his long white mane thrashing wildly from the motion. The noise that comes from his throat is unlike anything Rook has heard from a horse, much deeper and an almost leopard-like chuff. It’s drowned out by a sudden explosion that rocks the ground beneath them and makes Rook see white as the noise echoes off the metal containers. Instead of filtering through the tunnel of death, the White Masks have decided to blow a huge hole through the wall beside it and charge forward. Doc takes off, huge brown hooves clicking against the smooth concrete floor, his lion-like tail trailing behind before disappearing around the containers.

Rook does not witness the violence behind him but he can imagine it well enough. The White Masks are caught off guard by the sudden presence of the massive beast, long enough for Doc to trample one unlucky soul frozen in place, but it doesn’t take them long to start firing at him. The gunfire is loud in the small space but Rook doesn’t dare move his hands from pressing down on his wound to cover his ears. Some of the shots must penetrate Doc’s thick hide if the angry, throaty squeal that follows means anything. Rook’s gut clenches, there’s a possibility that they could kill both of them. No matter the form, no one was immortal. It only took an overwhelming force to take Doc down, and if he went down, no one would be there to protect Rook. A hefty thump breaks him out of his spiral as a man is kicked into the wall beside Rook and the man’s entire rib cage shatters, blood gurgles out of his mouth. Wet sloppy sounds and a scream follow as Doc undoubtedly gores a man with his sharp horn, probably lifting his straight off the ground strengthened by his rage and pain. Rook drowns them out with his own  unconscious pained whimpers, he doesn’t want to think about how his wound might look right now.

When Doc returns, Rook is drifting off; he doesn’t even realize it, he is just so tired and it hurts to keep his eyes open. The unicorn slams his front hoof into the ground and startles the injured man, who gasps and wheezes at the sudden movement. His back legs hump up and click against the ground twice, nervous energy making its way out. The once sparkling white coat is almost completely stained red and pink especially around the thick tufts of hair around his hooves and his head where blood drips from his horn onto his muzzle. Bits of gore hangs from the tip, someone’s large intestine tangled up in itself, and Rook looks away as quickly as he can without getting motion sick, even as his vision blackens temporarily and his head lolls to the side. He comes back to his senses as Doc huffs hot air into his face and presses his prickly muzzle into his cheek. Rook’s eye travels down his red and white neck to a closely grouped set of heavily bleeding gunshot wounds skimming the side of his muscular neck. Rook frowns; Doc got himself hurt for him, he could have died if the White Mask was a slightly better shot. He knew the rules, unicorn blood wasn’t healing unless spilled by malice, it's what made Doc so careful about his supplies. 

The unicorn kneels on his front legs, folding his long legs beneath him with some difficulty; it wasn’t easy for a 2000 pound beast to maneuver in this tight space and avoid crushing the very, very mortal man beside him. Even lying like this, he is much taller than Rook though still able to lean down and look deep into his eyes. This is the side of the beast that is still Doc. His intelligence and humanity, able to communicate without words. Rook knows what he’s saying, ‘It’s time’. The unicorn stretches his thick neck out right in front of Rook's face without hesitation. Rook glances at the drooling wounds and instantly feels nauseous. “Doc I can’t... I don’t think I can do it.” He grimaces weakly, he doesn't even feel that bad anymore; he flexes his hand experimentally, or feel much of anything at all for that matter. The beast snaps its jaws together and a deep growl-like breath rumbles from his chest. ‘Do it now’ it almost says. Rook swallows his sickness down and takes one shaky hands off his stomach, grunting at the feeling of hot blood spilling out over his cold hand with less pressure holding it in. The unicorn chuffs, eyeing him nervously from his widened peripherals. Rook uses his free hand to press against the warm neck, heaving like he’s just run a triathlon from the simple motion. For a second, he’s distracted marveling at how his hands almost match Doc’s fur with how pale they both are and stained with blood. There’s a sharp sting as the lion-like tail whips his thigh. How does he even go about this? Drinking from a fancy horse's wound? It's fucked up. Rook leans forward, his fingers find purchase by knotting themselves in strands of white mane, and eyes the wound sickly before sticking his tongue out and pressing it flat against the wound bleeding the heaviest.

Instantly, his tongue goes numb and blood fills his mouth. He chokes and immediately dry heaves, pulling away only to be harshly pushed back in by Doc’s head. It’s so viscous and the feeling makes him sick all over once again, shivering and breaking out in a cold sweat. Though, if he could focus his thoughts for long enough, that may be from earlier. In hindsight, he thinks the only thing that stopped him from throwing up was the fact that the vibrant red blood was incredibly sweet. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore the feeling of a very much alive and breathing animal,  _ human _ , under his hand. He can almost imagine he is licking honey off a warm plate if he really tries. The blood hits his stomach like a molten lead ball when he gags down a mouthful. He groans at the feeling, but it’s replaced soon by a tingling numbness that travels from his spine along every bundle of nerve fiber through his body and dulls his senses. Later, he would find out that the blood has an anesthetic property so Rook wouldn’t feel his organs rapidly growing back and realigned themselves and his skin stitching itself back together. But in this moment, he promptly passes out. 

He wakes up safe and sound in the med bay with a heaving gasp. Doc is immediately by his side, perched on a rolling chair with a clipboard in hand, “How do you feel?” Rook squints up at him and does an internal calibration, “Surprisingly good.” He can’t help when his eyes drift over the exposed part of Doc’s neck. He can’t see any scars or marks, though much of his neck was covered in his high collared white coat and the anatomy between man and unicorn didn't always match up. What happens to the wounds Doc received in his alternate form? He has never bothered to ask because truthfully the question has never crossed his mind. Doc always seems so untouchable, like mortal weapons couldn’t pierce his skin.

“Good, it’s been two days since the mission,” 

Rook frowns. 

“I kept you under for a day, I didn’t want the healing process to be interrupted.”

“Oh… Well uh, thanks... ” He feels awkward seeing Doc again but the man just carries on with some more questioning and a general check up, as if Rook hadn’t just drank blood from his neck two days ago. Sure it was to save his life, and Doc probably thought nothing of it but ugh, he never wanted to do that again and he’s sure the thought of it will make him cringe for months.

“Doc, is he awake yet?” A green haired figure stepped into the doorway nonchalantly. “Ela, welcome. Yes he’s up, you can come in.” Ela steps inside. Doc stands up from his chair, Ela immediately taking it for herself, “I just need to update your files and then I will let you go, Julien. I will be right back.” Rook makes a noise of affirmation and nods before turning to look at his new visitor. 

“I heard about your blood drinking fiasco. How was it?”

Rook grimaces, “I feel sick just thinking about doing that ever again. I have no idea how you do it so often.” The vampire just smiles mischievously.


End file.
